


Tending the Garden of Us

by CaptainDog



Category: In the Flesh (TV)
Genre: Abuse, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Alternate Universe - No Rising, Angst, Bill Macy is the Worst, Dancing, Domestic, F/M, Flowers, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Language of Flowers, M/M, Mild Smut, Non-Linear Narrative, Rick Macy is a Good Man, Self-Harm, Violence, artist!kieren
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-01
Updated: 2015-08-01
Packaged: 2018-04-12 10:56:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,455
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4476713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaptainDog/pseuds/CaptainDog
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In Roarton, Kieren and Rick are on the knife's edge of disaster. Kieren's mental state is shaky, Rick is torn between loyalties, and pressure is mounting. At a breaking point, the two decide to leave Roarton behind and make their way on their own.<br/>A non-linear exploration of Kieren and Rick's first few years away from Roarton. Fluff and flower language are heavy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tending the Garden of Us

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is for the lovely and amazing storm-lands, who made me think of it and gave me the go-ahead to post it.  
> Please let me know if I haven't tagged something correctly.  
> Also you're free to interpret Amy's beau as Phillip, or someone else if you prefer. I left him vague on purpose.  
> Flower language info from languageofflowers.com  
> Not brit-picked

“I thought I'd find you here,” Rick says, as if there was ever any doubt. When Kieren looks up, he can see the line of Rick's mouth curve up in what is almost a smirk. Ah. A joke, then. It's not always easy to tell with Rick. He's still working out how to flirt and crack jokes that aren't something he heard from his dad's mates at the Legion. Kieren returns the smile and moves one of the candles so there's room for Rick to sit beside him. Rick sits, his arm brushing Kieren's and sending a rush of electricity down Ren's spine. The candlelight softens Rick's features, wipes away some of the sternness in his expression. Kieren thinks he loves Rick the most like this and wishes he was good enough to do him justice in a painting. He's still figuring out how to get the brushes to cooperate.  
Rick leans over, sending another rush of warmth through Kieren.  
“Can I see?” He's talking about the sketchbook in Ren's lap. Rick always asks if he can see what Kieren's drawn. In fact, he'd been the first person ever to ask before snooping.  
Kieren's blush isn't really visible in the dim light, but he can feel the blood rise all the way to the tips of his ears as he passes his sketchbook over. The drawing is truly awful, even Rick has to see that. It's a portrait of Rick, but done by memory, candlelight, and a pencil that kept breaking. Rick loves it. He always does, saying Ren's got the eyes just right. Keiren often wonders if Rick really means it, or if he's gotten so used to complimenting Ren that it's an easy lie. Ren doesn't really care either way. It's nice to hear from someone who isn't his parent. Since he's started hanging out with Rick, he's become much less shy about sharing his artwork. It hasn't gotten him teased, thankfully, and now the art teacher at school can give him some actual pointers. Kieren's started to think about art school seriously now and not just as a fantasy. He could get out of this place. He uses these dreams to try and keep the dark thoughts at bay. When that doesn't work, he lets Rick compliment him.

Rick flips the page – by now he has permission to do that – and something falls out. It's left a purple and green smear on the page. Kieren picks it up and brings it to his nose. Rick sees that it's a sprig of tiny flowers, ones he recognizes as from the shrubs growing next to Mrs. Jones's house. Kieren smiles and hands the flattened flowers over. They're dried, but Rick can still smell the faint sweet odor that immediately makes him think of spring.  
“Lilac,” Ren says. “They're supposed to mean first love and innocence.” The look he gives Rick is unmistakeable. Kieren can see the moment when Rick interprets it and watches him flounder for a moment. They still haven't talked about this thing between them – Kieren's afraid to bring it up in case it breaks, in case Rick parrots his father in defense. Kieren finally takes pity on him and changes the subject. He asks Rick if he'd had a chance to listen to the new mix CD he'd made while he tucks the sprig of lilac back into his sketchbook. Rick's had to be careful about listening to them lately. Back when it was just heavy metal and other angry, masculine rock music, Bill Macy hadn't minded, hadn't even known the CDs were gifts. But as Kieren slipped in more love songs, they'd run into trouble. Now Kieren is banned from the Macy house and Rick can only listen to the CDs when home alone or with Kieren, either in the Walker house or their cave. It would be easier if Rick could just get an MP3 player, but money is hard to come by for luxuries like that and Bill Macy doesn't trust all these techie tricnkets the kids are buying these days.  
Rick says that yes, he had a chance to listen the other night when bill was out at the Legion. Tehy fall into pleasant conversation about music. Kieren ends up leaning against Rick, head on his shoulder. It's a small thing, but it feels like progress. 

~

Kieren knows that he's not really in danger here. There are teachers and it's gone out of fashion to bully the skinny, artistic kids. In a few years that might change, when Kieren is more open about who he'd like to date. He'll become the school poof, regardless of whether he actually likes girls too (just not quite as much as boys). Despite that, he keeps to himself and his notebook. He hasn't gotten around to getting a proper sketchbook yet, so it's a lined notebook meant for maths notes for now.  
He sits as if trying to curl himself around it, protecting it from prying eyes. He's too used to Jem snatching it or cruel children tearing pages out. He can feel eyes on him, but is afraid to look. He doesn't look up, just keeps shading darker and darker around the eyes of his subject (he's not sure who he means it to be, but by now it looks like a vampire) until a shadow crosses his page and its source speaks.  
“Can I see?”  
Kieren looks up (placing a careful hand over the drawing to hide it) to see a stocky boy with an expression so tense he looks as if about to pass out from holding in gas. Kieren might have laughed, but he knows better than to laugh at these jock types.  
“What?”  
“Your drawing. You're always drawing, and I wondered if I could see. I overheard a teacher saying you're good.”  
Kieren can't quite believe he's been asked this, and it's his shock that has him moving his hand so the other boy can see.  
“Er...this one isn't any good. Just a doodle.”  
But the other boy's eyes are wide and he picks up the notebook with surprising delicacy.  
“This is really good,” he says. “I've never met anyone who can draw like this.”  
It brings a blush to Kieren's cheeks, even if he knows it's likely true. There's not much of an artistic community in Roarton. He manages a “thank you.” The boy introduces himself as Rick Macy as he hands the notebook back. Kieren thinks he might have known him in primary school, but had forgotten him when the social hierarchy of puberty broke the ease of friendships between different types of people. He knows the name Macy, has heard one disparaging remark or another from his parents about a man he assumes is Rick's father. Kieren makes a firm decision not to judge Rick based on any shit family he might have. Rick sits down in the desk next to him. Kieren decides to show him another drawing, a better one, just to see what he'll say. 

~

“I've signed up for the army,” Rick announces over his shoulder. He and Kieren are sitting back to back in their cave, propped up by each other. Ren had known this was coming, but that doesn't prepare him for the sick feeling in his gut. He can't say what he wants to. What am I going to do without you? What if I do something stupid and you're not here to save me? What if you get blown up and I have to keep living without you?  
“Are you going to shoot people?” They've had enough beer that the question doesn't seem too strange.  
“Probably. I don't want to.”  
“You're not a killer.”  
Rick twists around and pulls Kieren to do the same. Their faces are so close it's hard to focus on each others' eyes.  
“What if I become one? What if I turn into-” he cuts himself off. Kieren knows, though. What if I turn into my dad?  
“You won't. I promise.”  
Rick smiles, grateful even if he doesn't entirely believe Ren. He kisses him hard.  
They roll onto the blankets they've spread over the floor of the cave. Rick gets on top of Kieren and kisses him and kisses him. He wants to show Ren that he cares. That he wants Ren just as much. That he's glad he asked about his drawings all those years ago. That this is worth it, even if hiding it is the worst pain Rick's ever felt.  
They're close enough to the mouth of the cave that the air still smells like the blooming honeysuckles just outside. Rick thinks that after this, so much as a whiff of honeysuckle might get him hard.  
For Kieren, the scent will only bring melancholy. Rick's kisses are wonderful, perfect, but they can't last. He's leaving. Maybe forever. He's leaving to go shoot a gun at people across the world and it's all Ren's fault. 

~

Rick holds him so tight it almost hurts. Ren knows it's because he's scared, and he can't blame him. When you share a bed with someone it's hard to hide fresh cuts, even harder to pass them off as cooking accidents when some of them are in neat rows on your thighs. Rick doesn't understand why Kieren does it, so sometimes he says the wrong thing. He sometimes gets angry. Ren's never been scared of him, but he does get scared that Rick will leave. Kieren depends on him, both for emotional support and financial (and oh, isn't that a massive stab of guilt all on its own?). But Rick, Rick could leave any time. What does he need Kieren for? Sure he says he loves him, but what if he gets fed up? He's already gone through enough because of Kieren Walker.  
Kieren gasps as Rick squeezes tighter and nuzzles against Kieren's neck.  
“I get so scared, Ren.”  
Kieren hasn't heard him sound this broken since Bill Macy hit him with the butt of a rifle.  
“I know you don't do it to scare me. But I can't...I can't just watch it happen.”  
Here it comes. Kieren closes his eyes as if to brace himself, but there's no way to prepare for this.  
“Please get help, Ren. I'll pay for it. I'll take you to appointments and buy meds if you need them and whatever else. Just...please.”  
Kieren twists around. “I can't ask you to do those things.”  
Rick's eyes are glistening with unshed tears when they meet Kieren's.  
“I know, but I'm asking if you'll let me. I'm begging.”  
Ren sighs. “We can't afford it. Doctors and medication are expensive.”  
“Well...” Rick glances down, biting his lip. “I have...it's not a lot, but I have some money stashed away. I was...I was going to...but your health is more important.”  
“I can't take your money, not if it was for something special.”  
“It was for you,” Rick says in a rush. “It was to take a holiday together. But I want it to be for your health now.”  
Ren is speechless. He kisses Rick. Selfless acts like this merit kisses in his book.  
“You are a good man. The best.” It might be an odd thing to say, but it's exactly the kind of thing Rick needs to hear. He needs to know that he's not his father.  
“Is that a yes?”  
Kieren nods. “I don't want to disappoint you. I'll do some digging and find a therapist,” he concedes.  
Now Rick kisses him, and Ren can feel how grateful he is. Kieren doesn't love the idea of seeing a shrink, but it's a small price to pay for keeping Rick and keeping Rick happy. And if Kieren's honest with himself, he knows he needs the help.  
At the beginning, Kieren thought that moving in with Rick might cure him. That's how it seems to work in the movies, after all. Now he realizes how naïve that was. But Rick's helping, so it's not all a loss.  
He and Rick sit together on the bed, exchanging sweet kisses. One of Ren's cuts bleeds through his bandage. Instead of changing it right away, Kieren grabs a red felt tip. Rick watches as Ren turns the blood stain into a cluster of red flowers. He keeps drawing, making a group of five-petaled blooms. He's based them on the geraniums in his parents' garden, but Rick doesn't know that. Rick just admires Ren's ability to turn horror into beauty. He gives him a kiss for every blossom, and then more because he is irrevocably addicted. 

~

Kieren's seen Rick bleeding before – cuts and scrapes from roughhousing or working outdoors – but he's never seen him broken like this. Head wounds bleed like a stuck pig and the rivulets of red are mixed with tears and grime down Rick's face. He staggers down towards the cave, looking for all the world like a zombie victim in some awful horror movie. Kieren jumps to his feet and runs to him. The bleeding is so bad that Ren worries Rick might have lost an eye until he gets close enough to see the wounds properly. The dusk light is dim and fading fast, but it won't be properly dark for a good half an hour yet. Rick collapses forward into Kieren's arms and his whole body shakes. It's usually Ren crying and bleeding and needing someone to hold him together (sometimes literally, as the scars on his wrists show). He hates seeing Rick like this, and then hates himself a little more for putting Rick and his family through this feeling.  
Rick goes limp in his arms and Kieren has to guide them to the mossy ground. Both of their shirts are covered in blood. He worries for a moment that Rick's passed out (and that's not good with a head injury, is it?), but then Rick draws in a tremendous breath to release a shaking sob.  
“I've got you,” Ren says, and he hopes he means it. 

Sue Walker, bless her heart, doesn't ask questions beyond the necessary. She'd looked as though about to faint at the sight of her son supporting his bleeding friend. They'd both been covered in blood, their eyes puffy from crying. She herds them inside, into the kitchen, and sits them both down at the table. Kieren refuses to move so much as an inch from Rick's side. Jem steps in, curious about the commotion. She gasps loudly.  
“What the fuck happened to you two?!”  
“Jemima, language. Get me a clean rag.” Jem, unused to hearing her mother speak in such a clipped tone, does so without question. It doesn't stop her from sneaking glances at the two boys.  
Mrs. Walker checks her son first. He's covered in so much blood, but she can't see any actual injuries. Kieren shakes his head. “I wasn't there.” There might be an undercurrent of guilt in his tone. He hadn't been there. He couldn't stop this.  
Sue takes his word for it and turns to Rick. His breathing seems strong, if not a bit shaky. It doesn't look as if he's still really bleeding, but she takes care as she begins to wash his face.  
“Is it just your head?” she asks.  
He starts to nod and then winces from the movement. “Yeah,” he says, voice cracked. It's the first thing he's said since finding Kieren at the cave. There are bruises all over, but nothing so bad as the wounds on his head.  
“You need to see a doctor. Probably get stitches.” She'll patch him up as well as she can, though. Steve might be better at this, but he's working late tonight. Jem comes back, carrying the first aid kit.  
Now that most of the blood's been washed away, Kieren can see the extent of the damage. He chokes on air. The skin is split in a jagged line down Rick's forehead, ending at the edge of his eyebrow, still oozing red. His eye has all but swollen shut. There's another cut on his left cheek that seems to run from his ear to his mouth, branching off into even more lines of ripped skin. Whether he gets stitches or not, it's going to scar.  
“What...did it?” Jem asks it carefully. She's the only one among them with the guts and tactlessness to ask. Sue opens her mouth to tell her off, but then Rick speaks.  
“His fists, first. Then...the butt of his rifle. I thought he was going to shoot me.”  
They all know who “he” is. Jem has enough tact not to say anything more, beyond a “Fuck...” under her breath. Sue doesn't bother to scold her. Fuck, indeed.  
“You'll stay here tonight,” Sue explains while taping bandages to Rick's wounds. “In the morning, Steve will drive you to the hospital.” She finishes and stands to take care of her now wet and bloody rag. Kieren puts his hand on Rick's leg.  
“We have to get out of here,” he murmurs.  
Sue had wondered when that was coming. Kier is signed up for art school, but some days he seems so unstable she's not sure he'll ever break away. She's sad to know that this is the incident that spurs him into action.  
“I need to call your father,” she says.  
There's a vase on the table, wilting flowers drooping from it. Kieren plucks at one of the yellow buds. Wild tansy, clipped from a patch of weeds down the road. A gift from Jem, seeking forgiveness for her bad marks in history.  
Rick's hand is suddenly over Kieren's, taking another flower from the vase. He turns it over between his fingers, examining it with his good eye. It's a bleeding heart, a spring of little pink flowers, shaped like hearts splitting to spill white blood.  
“I'm backing out of the army.” He lifts the flower to his nose and sniffs. Kieren wonders if that was what set Bill Macy off, or if it was the confirmation that his son is a fucking queer. Rick tucks the flowers into Kieren's hair behind his ear. Tears prick both of their eyes.  
“Can I come with you when you go to school?”  
Kieren catches Rick's hand and kisses the palm. “I'm not leaving without you.” 

~

Rick's face is half-obscured in clean bandages which cover his many sutures. He sits on the floor, his back resting against Kieren's bed, and shakes. Downstairs, they can hear a sharp knocking and then Janet Macy's voice demanding that they let her see her son.  
“She did nothing,” Rick whispers. “She just sat there. I think she was in shock.”  
They hear the front door open, Mrs. Macy shouting something, and then the door close. Rick and Kieren wait, holding their breaths, but they don't hear so much as a creaking on the stairs. Ren's mother or father must be talking to her outside, then.  
Rick makes a choked sound. He buries his face in Kieren's shirt. He shakes, but never properly cries.  
Steve Walker comes upstairs some time later. He knocks.  
“Rick? Your mum's come round to see you. Fancy talking to her?”  
Rick lifts his head and meets Kieren's gaze. He looks scared out of his wits. It's a moment before he shakes his head.  
“No, not now,” Kieren calls. “Tell her to leave a note if she has something to say.”  
There's a silence, Steve waiting to see if they have anything more to say. Evidently not, so he heads back downstairs. A few minutes later, they hear Janet Macy wailing as she leaves.

~

 

Amy Dyer is in a lot of Kieren's classes. She's sort of awful at drawing, which baffles Kieren as to why she's in art school. But then he reads her poetry. She just takes art classes for fun in between creative writing courses. After just a week of knowing Kieren, she declares them BSAFFs (Best Starving Artist Friends Forever). She is convinced that Kieren will illustrate her poetry collections as soon as she's published (which she assures him is only a matter of months). She doesn't care what other people think at all, wearing frilly skirts, granny cardigans, and flowers in her hair while saying whatever comes to mind regardless of if it'll offend.  
She's the most positive, upbeat person Keiren's ever met. It's a shock to discover that she's originally from Roarton – how could anybody be so happy after growing up there? It's also a shock to find that some of her poetry is positively heartbreaking. She doesn't say much about it, but Kieren gathers that she lost her grandmother a while back, in the midst of her own medical issues. Kieren doesn't bring it up, the same way she doesn't bring up his scars, which he knows she's noticed.  
Kieren is pretty sure Amy doesn't like Rick at first. Probably because he still gives off a very alpha male vibe at first impression. She can't see what Kieren's discovered through years of knowing and loving Rick Macy. She does, however, wink at Kieren and tell him she never guessed he was into the sexy scar thing. She cackles when both men turn bright red.  
After a few visits, she starts warming up to Rick. They start having weekly game nights at her insistence. Amy sometimes brings along her latest boyfriend (occasionally girlfriend, but she pickier on that front), but Kieren rarely remembers their names. He suspects that she just brings them to show off how pretty they are.  
It only takes about a month before she and Rick are trading dirty jokes across the table while Kieren shuffles the cards or arranges the board of whatever game they happen to be playing. 

~

Kieren's in a delicate mood when he steps into the Legion. He's not really keen to be surrounded by tipsy gun enthusiasts, but he's sure he'll find Rick here. Sure enough, he spots him in a corner with two of his mates. The other boys make no secret of hating Kieren, so he approaches them with caution. He stops short when he gets within earshot.  
“...that poof Walker.”  
“Seriously, Rick, what are you doing, hanging around someone like him?”  
Rick shrugs. “Just being polite. Don't want to start any fights.”  
“Yeah, but you can tell us what you think. I mean, you don't actually like Walker, do you?”  
Rick hesitates only a beat. “Nah, 'course not. He's a freak.”  
Kieren feels dizzy. He's vaguely aware of grabbing a glass from the table he's standing next to and hurling it at the floor near Rick's feet. The three boys look up, and then one quickly stands.  
“Trying to start something, Walker?” he demands.  
“You want a freak?” Kieren hisses. “I'll give you a freak.”  
He lunges forward, fed up with all of this, and shoves their table over. Half-full glasses of beer go crashing to the floor. All their jeans are splattered and glass crunches under their shoes. He's hardly aware of the gasps and shouts behind him. He knows he doesn't stand a chance, but he wants to fight. Wants to go at it until his knuckles bleed. He never gets the chance.  
Kieren can't tell how many arms have grabbed him. They pull him back. Rick just stares at him. That's the worst of it; that he doesn't react.  
The arms – which turn out to be those of Gary and Pearl, who's stronger than she looks – drag Kieren to the door. He shouts incoherent abuse all the way out. Gary shoves him into the gravel.  
“Go home, Kieren. Let's not make more of a mess of this,” Pearl says. Gary is less generous.  
“Don't come back here. Ever. Or you'll regret it.”  
Kieren pushes himself to his feet. His palms are scraped. He works up enough anger and saliva to spit at Gary's feet, and then turns to leave. He manages to hold tears back until he's left the lights of the Legion behind. 

~

He goes to the cave the next night. It stings to be there, but it's the only place he can go to be away from the gossip or his mother's chiding. The damp air is fragrant from the candles there, but they're not lit. Someone has been here. Kieren steps into the cavern cautiously. He trips over something and hears a grunt.  
“Who's there?” Rick's voice. A flashlight clicks on and Kieren's momentarily blinded by it. “Ren...”  
“How long have you been here, Rick?”  
Rick sits up and wipes the sleep from his eyes. “Dunno. What time is it?”  
“Past nine.”  
Rick swears under his breath. “All afternoon. Thought you'd turn up sooner.”  
“Waiting to tell me off?”  
“I reckon you've had that enough, don't need me to do it.”  
“You've got that right.” Kieren sits with an angry sigh.  
“I'm sorry about what I said.”  
“Why? You were right. I'm a freak.” Kieren looks away, his words dripping with bitterness.  
“Everyone's a freak in Roarton. You're not the worst of them.”  
“Oh, thanks so much.”  
Rick makes a frustrated sound. “You know I didn't mean it, Ren. I have to...to say these things so that...you know what my dad's like. What's expected of me.”  
“You don't have to do everything he says.”  
“He's my dad, Ren.”  
There's a loaded silence, Kieren seething and Rick weighing his words.  
“You make it so hard to pretend,” Rick murmurs. “When I see you, I...I want to tell them all to go to hell. But that'll get me disowned. It's why we need this place.”  
He aims the flashlight up at the ceiling of the cavern. There's graffiti there that Kieren doesn't recognize.  
REN  
+  
RICK  
4 EVER  
He blinks back tears.  
“Shit, Rick.” He pushes himself off the rock wall and crouch-walks right into Rick's arms. “I'm sorry,” he breathes against Rick's mouth. The flashlight goes clattering to the floor. They move together in the darkness, not bothered by what they can't see. 

~

“Shouldn't you be in school?” Kieren teases and ruffles Jem's hair.  
“Very funny.” She smacks his hand away. She looks up and grins at Rick as he steps in from the kitchen, bearing mugs of tea for Jem and Kieren.  
“You've got yourself a proper husband, Kier.”  
Rick goes red all the way to his ears.  
“He's not my husband, Jem,” Kieren says, as if he missed the joke.  
Jem rolls her eyes. “He's as good as. You two are so married.”  
Kieren looks from his sister to Rick. Rick's embarrassed look dissolves into something softer. Kieren takes his hand and smiles. Jem makes a retching sound.  
“Are you two picking out baby names yet?”  
Kieren grins at her. “Who needs babies? We've already got you, little sis.”  
Jem punches his arm. 

~

A week after Jem's visit, Sue Walker appears at the door, a paper bag in each hand.  
“Mum! What are you doing here?”  
“I”m not allowed to visit my son?”  
Kieren steps aside to let her in. She heads straight for the kitchen with her bags. “Of course, just. We didn't expect you.”  
Sue fixes him with a knowing smile. “We? Jem was right, you two really are married.”  
Kieren rolls his eyes, but he knows what she means. “It's a civil partnership, mum,” he shoots back with a grin. Sue laughs and starts pulling food items from the bags.  
“Help me put these away.”  
“You bought us groceries?” Kier asks as he complies.  
Some items are groceries, but there are a few packages of home cooked meals. He sniffs one. Lamb, his favorite.  
“Jem also told me your fridge was empty. And I can see you've lost weight.”  
Kieren glances down at himself. Had he? Sue isn't the type to tut over him looking skinny unless he really is. But she also hasn't seen him in weeks. Well, Kieren isn't going to turn away free food. Especially not his favorites. He picks up a plastic container, peering curiously at its contents.  
“It's a rhubarb crumble. Leave it out, we can have some together.”  
Kieren gets plates and forks out for them while Sue finishes packing food into their fridge. She joins him at the table. She stares at him until he takes a bite.  
“We just hadn't gotten around to shopping,” he mumbles.  
The rhubarb is a sharp tang on his tongue. He's not sure if he likes it, but he can't afford to waste food and won't refuse something his mother's made. That's something that's changed since he moved out.  
“Kier, you know that if you're having trouble, we're only a phone call away.”  
“No, mum, I... We're fine. I'm not gonna starve.”  
“If you do, there'll be hell to pay. And I know it's hard to ask. You're on your own for the first time, you're in love. You know, back when I was in school, there was this boy. Swept me off my feet. Really understood me, I thought. I felt like I could live off of love alone.”  
Kieren frowns. His parents are sometimes ridiculous, but at heart they're down to earth.  
“...Dad?”  
Sue Walker laughs. “No, god no. Your dad was the one to make sure I really did eat.” Something in her look is sad. Kieren gets the feeling that there's a lot more to that story. He realizes then that he doesn't know how his parents met beyond “work.” He doesn't ask, but he makes a note to do so in the future.  
“I'm not saying you're so silly in love you'll forget to eat. It's just that you're young, and you'll make mistakes. Your father and I...we're always going to be around to support you. But we don't always know when you need it.”  
Kieren's silent for a few moments. She's got a point, and all at once he feels guilty for not even calling to check in. They must have worried.  
“Thanks, mum. I'll call if I need anything. Promise.”  
She smiles, satisfied. “Go on, finish your crumble.”  
He does. It seems sweeter now. 

~

Ren and Rick sit in the park, picking at the clover surrounding them. They'd meant to have a picnic, but found that all their bread had molded overnight. So they'd just bought cookies and a bottle of hard cider. They're tipsy, just enough to be more publicly affectionate than normal, nothing indecent. Kieren leans into Rick's side and watches a honey bee lazily buzz around a clover bud. Its legs hang heavy with pollen. Rick tightens his arm around Ren and he feels warm despite the chilly breeze.  
Ren plucks a few clover flowers, keeping their stems long. He twists them in his fingers. Rick's eyes are on him – it's no secret that he likes Kieren's long, slender fingers. Kieren smiles and takes Rick's hand in his own. He wraps a clover stem around Rick's ring finger, tying a little knot to secure it. The flower sits like a gem on the digit and Ren smiles in satisfaction.  
“Trying to say something, Ren?” Rick asks, amused.  
“We're married now.”  
“Yeah? Says a makeshift weed ring?”  
“Yep. And says me. Any objections?”  
“Nope.”  
Rick twists and leans down to kiss Ren. He cups his cheek, the clover stems leaving a trace of green juice on Kieren's jaw. The honeybee makes a last, exhausted buzz and takes flight, heading home to her hive. 

~

Kieren's in his final year of school when he gets his first proper art show at a gallery. The perfect opportunity to network and make a name for himself in the art world. He plans to wear a pressed shirt and jeans to it, but Amy tells him in no uncertain terms that he must wear a suit. She's been to enough of these with her hippie friends that he takes her word for it and rents one. Rick has his own, though it's old and rarely worn.  
It turns out that they needn't have listened to Amy. The gallery is small, showcasing a few local students' works, Kieren's among them. He and Rick remove their ties and jackets as soon as they see that clean t-shirts would have been acceptable. Amy scowls at them but concedes that yes, they'd have looked rather pompous.  
It turns out to be an incredibly important night. Someone buys a painting for a good sum and another seeks Kieren out to ask about commissioning him. He has to write his contact details on a napkin and vows to have some business cards made. Rick is brimming with pride. He tells anyone who'll listen that he personally knows one of the artists. Kieren doesn't think he's ever heard him boast before. His enthusiasm attracts a good amount of attention. Amy's is more expected. Kieren's certain that she's bullied a man who seems very rich into asking Kieren about his work.

~

Rick holds his mother's hand when he knows his father isn't looking. It's easier now, at this crowded event the Roarton Council has put together. Bill's found his friends and gone to drink and laugh and participate in his sort of community. Seven year old Rick is too young to join him, so he stays close to Janet who's socializing near the raffle booth. Every time Rick thinks he hears his father's voice he drops her hand and pretends to listen to the conversation of whatever man is nearest. It's frightfully dull, but almost the entire town is here. Rick is determined not to embarrass his parents, although he knows that by now it's almost an inevitability, even if he isn't sure what he's done wrong.  
Janet leans down to talk to her son.  
“Why don't you go and find some of your friends, Ricky? Play one of the games.”  
Rick understands that this is his cue to leave his mother alone. She's going to complain about her husband and son, and Rick isn't invited to this conversation. None of the children here are really his friends, but he can get along with them fine in that way young children have. He wanders through the crowd of adults, making his way to what had become the children's corner. A few of the parents have set up a ring toss game and an dartboard. They're mostly ignored in favor of the old jukebox, the source of the background noise in the room. It's playing rock songs from the 60's while a few girls twirl about in a small child's version of dancing. Rick approaches them with a tentative smile. He knows most of them by face but not by name and he suspects that the same is true of them for him. The group parts effortlessly to make room for him. He stands still, watching and wondering how he might include himself in this. One of the girls, about his age, glares at him with her hands on her hips.  
“Well? Aren't you going to dance?”  
Rick shrugs. It hadn't occurred to him to dance. He can't recall ever dancing before in his life.  
“I don't know how.”  
The girl rolls her eyes and stomps towards him. She takes his hands and holds tight. A new song starts.  
“Just do what I do.”  
Rick watches her dutifully, ready to learn. She swings their arms, shuffles her feet, and tries to shake her hips in time to the music. It's clumsy, but not awkward. To their seven year old minds, this is just what dancing is like. Rick concentrates hard and does his best to mimic the girl's movements. Finally, he closes his eyes to listen to the music. This song has a strong drum beat so it's easy to catch on to the rhythm. He opens his eyes to see the girl grinning widely at him. Evidently he's doing something right. He lets go of her hands and they both wave them in the air as they dance. They giggle and shake to the music. Rick doesn't think he's ever had so much fun with another person. Later, he will berate himself for thinking that might last.  
His mother calls for him weakly, but he doesn't hear her over the music. All he knows is that one moment he's laughing and spinning in a wild circle and the next there's a huge hand gripping his shoulder hard enough to hurt. The gruff voice of his father seems to erase the music until it's all Rick can hear. The words themselves don't really register, but Rick gets the point. This isn't something boys are supposed to do. He's acting like a little faggot, shaking his hips like that, and he's an embarrassment. Rick doesn't even get a last glimpse of the girl he's begun to think of as his friend before his father's grabbed him around the back of his neck and marched him outside. His mother stays inside, probably telling everyone some story to excuse Rick's shameful behavior. He doesn't know that she's actually trying to cover for the scene her husband's made. He wishes he'd known that dancing was wrong. There are men in movies who do it, after all, but they must be the sort of men that Bill calls vile names and wants to beat into their place. Rick keeps his head down. He feels sick – it's an instant reaction every time he smells liquor on Bill. Tears prick his eyes and he fights as hard as he can to keep them back. He isn't allowed to cry, especially when he's not even hurt. As his father pulls him behind the building and raises a hand to strike, Rick makes a vow. He won't remember it later in life, but it'll have an effect on him nonetheless. He promises himself, and then his father, that he'll never dance again. 

~

The flat smells different when Rick gets home from work. Floral, like someone's sprayed perfume around the place. Kieren is nowhere to be seen. Rick checks the bedroom, but finds no one there.  
“Ren?”  
“In the bath,” comes the call. Rick sighs. He's grimy from work and just wants a hot shower. Ren is prone to long, indulgent baths an Rick isn't in the mood to wait for him tonight. He heads into the bathroom (the door is ajar, so Rick doubts Ren is after privacy) hoping to get the point across that he'd like a shower now, thankyouverymuch. He finds Ren grinning up at him from the tub. Which is filled with pink. And flower petals? Kieren seems to be covered in something shimmery. Glitter? Whatever this is, it explains the floral scent.  
“Well? Are you getting in or what?” Ren shifts as if to make room for Rick.  
“I was...”  
“You always take a shower after work, I know. But this is much nicer.” He swishes the water around him. “It's a bath bomb. Fizzes when you put it in. Come on, it's nice. Relaxing.”  
Rick's still not sure about this, but he strops while Ren watches. Ren says nothing, but there's a heat to his gaze that speaks for itself. Rick steps into the tub.  
Normally Rick is the big spoon. It's just what works based on their sizes. Kieren isn't short, but he's slight where Rick is bulky muscle. This time, however, Ren doesn't give him much choice. Rick ends up sitting in the bath with his back against Kieren's chest. Ren pus his arms around Rick and kisses his shoulder.  
The water is almost too hot and the smell of flowers is strong. It's like bathing in freshly brewed hibiscus tea. It makes Rick feel dizzy, but not unpleasantly so. He doesn't react beyond a sigh when Ren's hand wanders down between his legs.  
Neither makes much noise as Kieren begins to move his hand up and down. He begins to rut against Rick's backside. The only sounds are their harsh breaths and the sloshing of the pink water around them. Rick's body goes rigid and he grips the edges of the tub as he comes. Kieren rocks against his ass a few more times. He bites down on Rick's shoulder to muffle his shout, leaving neat little red marks where his teeth were. With a satisfied sigh, Rick leans back against him. The heady floral scent, combined with orgasm, makes him drowsy. They stay like this for long minutes, until the water turns cold. 

~

Privately, Kieren thinks Amy is a bit insane for getting married so fast. They're both still in school, for God's sake, and she's only known her fiance for a couple of months. But she seems so blissfully happy and Kieren can't actually find anything wrong with the guy. He thinks she's probably excited as hell to plan a wedding, even if it's a low budget one. She commissions him to design the invitations and demands that he bring Rick as a plus-one. When Ren brings this up to Rick, he's surprised at how readily his boyfriend agrees. Rick and Amy like each other and there's no way Kieren would let him miss her wedding, but he'd expected a little more reluctance. Kieren realizes that Rick has changed more than he ever thought he could. He wonders how much he himself has changed. With that in mind, he lets his fingers drift over the raised scars on his wrists. Even if he's had to fight for the victory, it's been a long time since he's reopened those wounds.  
Amy awards herself veto power over Kieren and Rick's outfits for the ceremony and subsequent party. She absolutely refuses to have anyone at her wedding who is not, in her eyes, moregeous.  
Rick and Ren have to rent their suits because there's no way they can afford anything near glamorous enough to satisfy Amy. Kieren gets a heather grey suit with a narrow tie, and Rick gets a crisp black tuxedo. Upon seeing him in it, Kieren completely gives up any reluctance he may have had about them being Amy's personal dress-up dolls.  
It's exhilarating to step into the church with his arm linked with Rick's. Rick is tense, but he's a lot more at ease around all the people than his old self would have been. He even flashes a bright smile at Amy when he sees her.  
The ceremony goes smoothly until Amy can't contain herself and kisses the groom before the vicar announces that they can. He clears his throat while everybody that knows Amy fights back giggles to varying success.  
The small wedding party migrates to a nearby park. The groom's family has rented a tent and a DJ. On the way out, Amy throws her bouquet of red roses and stephanotis over her shoulder. It's clear that she peeks, because the flowers land directly in Kieren's hands. He laughs and passes it to one of her friends who looks disappointed to have missed it. Everybody picks at the finger food set out (a proper dinner wasn't in the budget) and chat while they wait for speeches and dancing. Amy catches Kieren's hand.  
“Look at you, handsome man! Dress like this and I'll worry I put a ring on the wrong one.” She winks at him and he gives a quiet chuckle. “But you mustn't be heartbroken that I love another. You've got Mr. Studly over there to console you.”  
As she walks off towards her new husband, she yells, “You had better let me plan your wedding, Kieren Walker!”  
Kieren laughs. He feels a warm presence behind him and knows that it's Rick. They stand together while the best man, a friend of the groom, makes a speech. It's fumbling, but it's sincere. Kieren catches Amy wiping her eye. The moment she's composed, however, she snatches the microphone to address the small crowd.  
“Enough of the boring stuff. Let's dance!”  
That's the DJ's cue, and it only takes a few minutes of troubleshooting the lights before Amy and her new husband are at the center of the group, taking their first dance. Everyone claps and Kieren whoops for her at the end of it. Amy's eyes focus on them and she marches over, grabbing Kieren's arm.  
“Come on, you. I want one dance out of my BSAFF before our men get jealous and snatch us away.”  
He shares and amused look with Rick as he's dragged to the center of the dance floor. The groom is already dancing with his mother and the rest of the party is starting to join in. Amy leads, spinning Kieren around and giggling. She leans in close to whisper conspiratorially.  
“When are you going to put a ring on that boy, Kieren Walker?”  
Kier laughs and shrugs. “As far as we're concerned, I already have.”  
Amy rolls her eyes.  
“Yeah, but when are you going to have a gigantic party to celebrate it, dum dum?”  
Kieren just shrugs and smiles. Amy gives him a friendly death glare, if such a thing is possible.  
As the song fades out to make way for a new one, Kieren feels a large hand at his shoulder. The touch is familiar, but surprising. He'd been sure that Amy's new husband would cut in first and that Rick would hang back. Rick never seemed like one for dancing. Then again, Ren's never been with him in a place where he had the opportunity.  
“May I have this dance?”  
Kieren's eyes widen as Rick does a little bow and extends his hand. Amy bites her lip and then decides to give in to the urge to squeal in delight. Kieren ignores her, grins, and takes Rick's hand.  
It's definitely clumsy as they work out who's leading (Kieren, because he knows the steps better), but Rick seems to have a surprisingly good grasp of rhythm. Kieren watches their feet for a few steps, just to make sure they won't trample each other, and then looks up at Rick. Rick's face is transformed into a tentative smile. Kieren grins back at him, a bright, wide thing.  
They lose track of time as they dance. One song blends into another while Rick's smile grows more easy. Their steps gain confidence. When Amy taps Kieren's shoulder to get his attention, he's lost track of how many songs it's been. He realizes suddenly that both he and Rick are flushed and breathing harshly from exertion. Amy smirks at them.  
“Party's winding down, loverboys, and I haven't even gotten the chance to gossip to Kieren.”  
Kieren and Rick let go of each other and it feels strange to stop touching after so long. Amy seizes Kieren's arm and hauls him away. She begins chattering, telling him about all the drama he's missed while dancing.  
Rick watches them go, alone in the crowd. He knows no one here, has very little interest in making new friends. Normally he can fake friendly conversation, but by now he's too exhausted. He drifts through the crowd, finding a place to lean against a post of the tent.  
Rick has always had a great capacity for silence. Stoicism was a sanctuary for him when he lived under Bill Macy's roof. Stoicism was manly, a shield with which Rick could hide his most shameful of emotions. Those walls have largely fallen now, but it's still easy for him to fall into his old habit and stand quiet as a statue. No one approaches him and he vaguely wonders if it's his expression or his Frankenstein scars that make him intimidating. Perhaps it's both.  
He does his best not to feel abandoned. He knows he has no right to. It's Amy's party and Kieren is her best friend. He pushes any resentful thoughts aside and thinks instead about dancing with Kieren. It had been something of a shock to find he'd enjoyed it so much.  
Rick's cheeks are still pink and he can still feel the rush of excitement and pleasure that had come with dancing. At first, he'd only asked Kieren for a dance because it had seemed like the proper boyfriend thing to do. He's rather proud of being a proper boyfriend now that he's gotten used to the idea. But he'd liked it. Loved it, even. The music and the movements had just taken all of his anxiety away. He realizes that he wants to do it again. Rick isn't great with words. Even now he doesn't talk about his emotions. But this is something he knows he'll have to bring up to Kieren. Ren will listen, will probably even love that Rick's discovered this about himself. Instead of anxiety, the thought brings a rush of affection and pleasure. One way or another, Rick Macy is going to dance again.  
“Did I lose you?”  
Rick looks up, startled. Kieren stands in front of him. His smile is small; someone who doesn't know him wouldn't see that it's a smile at all. He holds a hand out to Rick.  
“Sorry for running off like that. You know how Amy is.”  
Rick steps forward and Kieren pulls him into an embrace. They share a quick, chaste kiss.  
“Are you okay?”  
Rick nods. It's true. 

~

“Oh my god!”  
Kieren pulls away from Rick's lips with a wet sound at his sister's voice. Jem's got a camera strung around her neck and she stares at the two of them in disgust.  
Rick swears and hurriedly sticks his hands in the air as if to pretend they weren't just firmly placed on Kieren's ass. He looks terrified.  
“Didn't you ever learn to knock, Jem?”  
Rick seems a little stunned by Ren's joking tone. Jem rolls her eyes and steps towards them, ducking her head to avoid a jagged rock.  
“So this is where you're always disappearing off to. Nice.”  
“Is that dad's camera?”  
Jem looks down at it as she seats herself on a rock. Kieren rolls off of Rick to sit next to him.  
“Yeah. Have to take some photos for a school project. I thought some of this place would be cool.”  
“Just don't take any of this spot, all right?”  
Jem glances up at the writing on the ceiling. “...Yeah. I'll leave it alone. Besides, I'll probably puke if I'm reminded of what I walked in on.”  
The Walker siblings laugh and Rick finally starts to relax.  
“So, what's the project about?”  
Jem laughs. “Something about nature's beauty. As if Roarton kids aren't sick of nature's beauty.”  
This time, Rick laughs along with them.  
“Well, except for you two, apparently.”  
“Us? Jem, we weren't exactly paying attention to the scenery.”  
Rick's ears go red. It's adorable.  
Jem grins wickedly and raises the camera.  
“What? Jem, no.”  
“Come on, I want to immortalize the moment! I swear I won't show anyone.”  
Kieren snorts but he smiles for the camera. The flash goes off and the shutter clicks. Moment immortalized.  
“You look like a couple of idiots,” Jem says. 

~

The trip is a graduation gift from Kieren's parents. He had been almost too stunned to speak when they presented him with the money for it. Jem had piped up before he could find his voice again.  
“Don't you dare refuse it, Kier. You're not allowed to become a famous artist until you've at least visited Paris.”  
He didn't dare argue with the stern look she gave him. Steve grinned and told Kieren that it's traditional to travel after graduation, to see the world before settling down in it. Kieren had laughed and then thanked them. Over and over again.  
Rick had expected their first stop in Paris after the hostel to be the Louvre. Kieren rolls his eyes and smiles when he voices this. “Of course I want to go there, but d'Orsay is my priority.”  
Rick has never heard of d'Orsay before. He has no idea what makes it different from the Louvre. He says nothing more and just lets Kieren be the tour guide.  
As they star their walk through the Musee d'Orsay, Rick starts to understand why they're here. Ren constantly checks his map of the building, directing their tour in a specific direction. His face positively lights up when they reach the Impressionists. Rick doesn't know art history at all, but even he instantly recognizes the swirling brush strokes and off kilter compositions of Ren's favorite artist of all time.  
The first painting they stop in front of is Van Gogh's most famous self portrait. Ren stares and stares. Starting to get a little worried, Rick places a hand on his back.  
“It's just...it's right here. He actually created this and I could reach out and touch it.”  
Rick gives a crooked smile. “Please don't. We'll get chucked out or arrested.”  
Ren snorts and lightly punches his arm.  
They gaze at the portrait a few moments more before moving on. Kieren gives each of the Van Goghs special attention, but doesn't dare neglect the other works of masters. Rick follows, listening when Kieren spouts historical trivia or comments on a painting technique. Rick understands very little of it, but he's starting to see the appeal. There's a sort of melancholy in these paintings, but also hope. He sees it in a still life of flowers in a vase, of all things. If it had been more photorealistic, it'd be what he used to think art was supposed to look like. But the brush strokes seem to explode from the lip of the copper vase. They rise into many-petaled orange flowers and down into the vase and even the multicolored table. The background, at first glance a speckle-y blue, is actually a galaxy of rainbow paint. Rick doesn't really know why, doesn't know why it's this painting in particular, but he feels he can keep staring for hours.  
Ren moves next to him and places a hand on his back.  
“Like it?”  
Rick nods.  
“Me too.”  
As they continue on, Ren tells Rick about how Van Gogh tried eating yellow paint in the hopes that it would brighten up his insides, turn him happy from the inside out. The story sounds like it might be fabricated, and it's also incredibly illogical. Rick bites back his deprecating comment. Ren looks so serious, seems so empathetic to Vincent's pain. As rick wonders whether Ren's ever tried eating paint, or even considered it, he realizes that he sort of understands why Ren loves this painter so much. Of course the paintings are beautiful, but so are most of the others surrounding them. There's more to them than brushstrokes. There's a kindred spirit. That terrifies Rick a bit. He knows what happened to Van Gogh.  
They spend a few more hours wandering the galleries until their growling stomachs force them to stop. They find a cafe that's so stereotypically Parisian it's startling. When they see the prices, they realize it's entirely for tourists' benefit. The bread and coffee is good, so they don't mind so much.  
They do wind up at the Louvre, and the Eiffel tower, and the Tuileries. They spend a lot of time just wandering the streets and lounging in parks where they picnic with wine, bread, and cheese bought from the most quaint markets they can find. It feels like a dream, or perhaps a scene in a romantic film. They don't spend much, just buy a couple of small souvenirs. Rick finds a postcard of Van Gogh's flowering almond branches and buys it for Ren.  
The final night, they splurge with their extra money. Instead of spending the night in the hostel, they get a proper hotel room. It seems so luxurious compared to what they're used to that it's almost nerve-wracking.  
Ren wants a shower, wants to wash away the grime of a day walking around the city. He winks at Rick before disappearing into the large bathroom. The water is a little cooler than it needs to be, but it feels cleansing so Ren doesn't bother to turn it up. When Rick joins him a few minutes later and presses up against Ren's back, he warms him up in no time. They're lazy with their touches under the spray. They sway gently, Rick's big hands resting on Kieren's narrow hips. Ren twists, puts a hand on the back of Rick's neck, and kisses him. The water sluices down their faces as their mouths move together. Hands wander over wet skin made slippery. Eventually they break apart long enough to soap each other up, far more thoroughly than necessary. They take turns scrubbing complimentary hotel shampoo through each others' hair.  
They emerge with their skin pink from arousal and the water that had warmed since Kieren had first gotten in. They bundle up in the hotel-provided dressing gowns, white and fluffy and soft, and tumble onto the bed. Just as Ren is starting to push Rick's robe from his shoulders, someone's stomach rumbles. Neither is sure whose it was, but they dissolve into giggles. There's money left, so they order room service.  
They try to feed each other, sitting in their fluffy robes on the bed with their far-too-fancy tray of dinner. As cute as the idea is, it just doesn't work. They stop before the white robes are irreparably stained or someone gets accidentally stabbed with a fork. Ren still stays halfway in Rick's lap as they eat and drink probably too much wine (but they're in France, is there such a thing?). He thinks ahead and places the tray far away from the bed when Rick seems more interested in biting his neck than his vegetable sautee. He gives Rick a look as he turns back to the bed. Rick seems to feel the heat of it and unties his belt. Ren drops his robe and crawls, nude, onto the bed and over Rick. He straddles him, kisses him deeply, pushes his hands under terrycloth to feel heated skin. Rick gets frustrated and rolls them over. He throws off his robe and dives to press bites and kisses to Ren's throat. Ren laughs, delighted by his enthusiasm. Rick kisses his way down Kieren's body, which arches and twitches in response to his touch. When Rick closes his mouth around his cock, Kieren gasps aloud and grips the sheets beneath him. From that point on, he's barely coherent. He curls his hand around the back of Rick's neck, not pushing, just something to ground him. His hips buck up helplessly; Rick holds them down. That in itself is a thrill. Ren loves Rick's big, strong, work-calloused hands. He loves how gentle they are when they could so easily be rough, cruel. This Rick is a far cry from the one Kieren had known back in Roarton. That Rick had felt alive shooting a rifle, indulging in violence. Now, he doesn't have that kind of anger to let out, nor the pain to try and forget. Ren had loved him then, but the transformation hasn't hurt in making his love grow.  
Ren moans, his body tensing. He pushes Rick away. This isn't how he wants to come tonight. Rick looks up to meet Kieren's eyes. He grins slowly.  
Kieren grins back and pulls him up for a kiss. He lets the kiss linger while he comes back from the edge of orgasm. Rick's hips stutter, nudging his erection against Ren's thigh. The kiss becomes more heated. Ren thrusts his hips up, signaling for Rick to continue. They rock against each other. The kiss sinks into something less, messy and open-mouthed. They moan and gasp, free to be loud in the huge hotel room. Rick reaches between them, bringing their cocks together. He's still for an agonizing moment before he strokes. Kieren keens and wraps his legs around Rick. It's only a matter of thrusts and twists of the wrist before Ren shudders. He gasps Rick's name in a blissed out whisper into his lover's ear. Rick's orgasm is close behind. He comes with a soft grunt and kisses Ren sweetly.  
They shift to lie on their sides, still wrapped up in each others' arms and legs. It takes a while before Ren feels steady enough to get a cloth from the bathroom to clean the already drying mess on their thighs and bellies.  
Rick draws him back into his arms.  
“I'm glad we did this.”  
“Which part? The sex? The hotel? Paris?” Ren asks, amused.  
“All of it. Every moment.”  
“Me too.”  
They exchange kisses until they drift to sleep. 

~  
“I've got a surprise for you,” Kieren says, his eyes sparkling.  
“It's not even my birthday,” Rick says. He gives a shy and crooked smile.  
“This doesn't need an occasion. Iv'e been saving up and I want you to have this.”  
Saving up? Rick's ready to protest – Ren should be spending extravagantly on him – when Ren hands over a brochure.  
Rick frowns down at it. It's an advertisement for a dance school. There's a photo on the front of children in a line, all practicing ballet. Inside, there's an elderly couple waltzing. The place apparently offers classes to all ages in several styles of dance. He looks up at Kieren.  
Ren looks nervous but he's smiling. “I got the idea after Amy's wedding. I've signed us up for a class. Just one, just to try it out. Ballroom. What do you think?”  
Rick can't speak. He might be shaking. Dance classes. Not so many years ago, he'd have tripped a kid in the hallway who took dance classes. He'd have told his father and received a proud clap on the back. He feels sick to his stomach.  
Kieren's smile falters. “Rick?” He takes the brochure back. “We don't have to. It's fine. I just thought...”  
Rick still says nothing. His eyes are unfocused. What's wrong with him? Just a few months ago, at Amy's wedding, the thought of dancing again had exhilarated him.  
“Rick? Are you all right? Rick, please say something.”  
Rick doesn't. His mind is in Roarton. His father is calling him horrible names and hitting him until blood clouds his vision and he rears to hit back.  
He comes back to himself to find that Kieren's gotten him into a chair. Ren kneels, looking up at him with wide, terrified eyes.  
“How long...?”  
“Just a few seconds. Do you want some water?”  
Rick almost refuses, but then realizes how dry his mouth is. He nods.  
Ren produces a glass for him almost magically. “Do you want to talk about it?”  
Rick shakes his head. He gulps the offered water. “My dad...”  
That explains it all, really. Ren touches Rick's hand.  
“I thought he was gone. For good.” Rick's voice breaks. Ren abandons his tentative touches and hugs his lover fiercely. He wishes that his affection, his love, could wipe Bill Macy away forever. As good as dead he may be, his ghost still haunts them.  
Ren holds Rick for a long time. Later, he cancels the class and throws the brochure away. He doesn't see Rick retrieve it from the bin. 

~

 

The first gallery show for Kieren alone comes a few months after he graduates. He's told that this is a big deal, a great step for his future. It's hard to tell what's actually impressive when everyone around him is constantly singing his praises. He wonders when he managed to surround himself with such positivity. It hadn't eradicated the darkness, but it's helped. His freshest scars have come from utility knife slips when he sharpens his charcoal pencils.  
His whole family manages to drive down to come to his opening. To Kieren, they seem startlingly out of place among the rich art collectors and hippie-ish local artists. Except for maybe Jem, whose hair has become an even brighter, more obnoxious red. Kieren tells her she should do green next. She seems to consider it while their parents try to conceal their horror.  
“It's only hair. It grows back,” Sue says, more to console herself than to approve of Jem's choices.  
“I'm not shaving it off, mum,” Jem says, flicking her crimson locks over her shoulder. “Although, now I think about it...”  
Amy appears from behind Kieren to tell her all about the time she shaved her own head. Kieren smiles, thinking they'll get along well.  
Rick keeps to the periphery. Kieren wonders if he'll ever be comfortable around the Walker family. Perhaps they remind him of his own parents in Roarton. More likely, they remind him of a sort of parent he's never had.  
They all go out for dinner after, Sue and Steve's treat. Sue brings Kieren a potted plant. It's a little thing, a clipping from the Walker garden. There are no flowers yet, only deep green leaves poking from a diminutive stalk. She assures her son that it'll grow to a respectable size and describes the flowers it'll have come spring. Kieren thinks he remembers seeing the parent plant in his childhood. When he brings it home, he sets it in their sunniest window and waters it diligently. Rick teases him and tells him to name it if he loves it so much. Kieren names it Rick Jr. and makes a little label for it in retaliation.

~

The first night, Kieren realizes with a small shock that he and Rick have never really shared a bed before. Not for more than a few illicit hours. Even the days when Rick was staying with the Walkers before they moved, he'd mostly slept on the sofa for propriety and Ren's parents' sake. Now that he thinks of it, they've never even seen each other naked. Most of the times they've messed around have been in the pitch dark or at most dim candlelight. They'd rarely bothered to undress. It was always drunken or hurried rutting, often ending in a mess in their pants.  
They've just finished their first dinner in their very own (tiny) flat. They wash up, both sighing about how exhausted they are from the move. They fall silent as their eyes drift to the open bedroom door. The bed is barely wide enough for the both of them. They haven't even gotten sheets on it yet.  
Rick moves first, tossing a blanket onto the mattress.  
“We can unpack the bedclothes tomorrow.”  
Kieren nods. Neither of them have the energy to figure out which box they're in.  
Without so much as turning out a lamp, Rick pulls his shirt off. Ren bites his lip. He can't help but stare at all the defined muscles of Rick's back and arms. For all that Rick was forced into sports by his father, it did his body a lot of favors. Kieren feels very hot. In part from arousal, in part from shame. He knows that he'll never have muscles the way Rick does and that's fine. But every scar that stands out on Rick's skin is the result of an accomplishment or bravery. He has several from sports injuries, another from falling from a tree (a child had gotten stuck up there). And then of course the ones on his face. They're still not healed, more open wounds than scars. Kieren has a few of those, but they're nothing to be proud of. They just show how weak he is. How desperate.  
“Ren?”  
Rick is sitting on the bed, stripped down to his briefs. He looks up at Ren, concern clear even on his mangled face. Kieren shakes his head.  
“It's nothing.”  
It's obvious that Rick doesn't believe him, but he doesn't press. That's one of the things Kieren likes best about Rick. What he does next, though, scares Ren thoroughly. He stands frozen as Rick pulls up the hem of his shirt, exposing his pale, almost concave belly. Rick stands, guides Ren's arms up, gently slides the garment off over his head. Once his arms are free, Ren crosses them over his chest. He lets himself shiver, pretending he's cold to justify it.  
“You're so beautiful, Ren.”  
The words cause Kieren's heart to trip up and he shivers again. Rick looks so uncertain; was that the right thing to say?  
Kieren answers by uncrossing his arms and unfastening his jeans. He steps out of them and kicks them aside.  
“Can I...tonight...can I hold you?”  
Rick looks so terrified of asking that Ren has to smile – he's kind of adorable. In answer, he switches off the lamp and crawls onto the mattress. The fact that they are both terrified makes everything a bit less terrifying. He slides his arms around Rick. Realistically, Ren has no idea how well he can share a bed. He doesn't think he moves around much in his sleep, but he could be wrong. But he knows that now, tangled in an old blanket and tuckd into Rick's embrace, he'll fall asleep soundly.

~

One of the greatest tragedies in life, Ren thinks, is how few drawings he's done of Rick smiling. It's not that Rick doesn't smile, but they're so hard to capture. First, one has to get him to smile. Kieren's gotten pretty good at that, but there's no way to reliably keep him smiling long enough to get a likeness on paper. The other problem is that Kieren gets distracted. Rick's smiles are so uncertain, as if he's not sure he should be smiling, or maybe thinks someone will catch him doing it wrong. They are absolutely endearing. How can Kieren possibly look away long enough to make sure his pencil is doing as it's supposed to? 

~

Ren comes home from Amy's to find that Rick has music playing. This in itself isn't unusual, but the type of music is. Jazz? No, swing. What on earth? He steps into the main room with a frown.  
Rick looks as if he's been waiting for Ren. His laptop's open, some Youtube video paused on it. The music must be coming from another tab.  
“What's going on?”  
Rick holds out a hand. “Will you dance with me?”  
Ren stares, not sure he's heard right. Dance? Rick? He'd cancelled their couples dance class weeks ago after Rick's panic attack at the idea.  
Rick looks sheepish. “I know I'm not any good, but I watched some video tutorials. Please? I know you were excited about those classes.”  
That surprises a laugh out of Kieren. “I was mostly excited because I thought you'd like it. You just...seemed so into it at the wedding.”  
Rick ducks his head. “That was a surprise. I just. I don't want to do it in front of people. Or have someone tell me what I'm doing wrong. I just want to do it and not think.”  
Ren smiles and takes his hand. “We can do it that way.”  
Rick turns and starts up a new song. He must have been studying more than a couple of videos because he seems to know exactly what he's doing, despite his obvious nerves. He leads Kieren in the steps until they both get into rhythm. It's a lot like at the wedding. They pay little attention to their surroundings and just maintain eye contact. Their bodies begin to move instinctively in time.  
The next song is more energetic. It's more difficult to keep up and get the steps right. Kieren trips more than once, but Rick holds him steady and they laugh it off. This song bleeds into a slow one. Now they don't dance so much as sway in each others' arms. Kieren smiles and kisses Rick's neck.  
“I wouldn't mind doing this more often,” he whispers.  
“Neither would I.” 

~

Rick has been awake for a good fifteen minutes now. He hopes Ren hasn't noticed, but Ren has a sharp eye for detail. He hasn't said anything though, so Rick just continues to lie there, sheets tangled around his legs and his breathing deep. He wants to smile at the sound of charcoal over newsprint (soft vine, he's been around Kieren long enough to recognize the difference).  
A few months ago, he'd have been mortified to know that Ren was drawing him like this, all vulnerable and naked but for their threadbare sheets which are doing nothing to actually cover Rick at the moment. Now, he's just flattered and pleased that he can help Kieren's work. After a few more minutes of “modeling,” Rick's arse starts to itch. He can feel something peeling from the skin of his back and buttocks and remembers the flower petals. It had been a really stupid romantic gesture. The Italian dinner had been reheated takeout. The candles had to be blown out right away because they were for power outages, which occurred too frequently to be shrugged off. The flower petals hadn't even been roses, they'd been something weird Rick had never heard of before. Stephanotis? It had sounded like a disease. Still, he and Kieren had fallen into bed grinning, ignoring the slimy, sticky flowers as they made love.  
“Stop smiling, you're ruining the composition,” Ren's voice, clearly teasing, surprises Rick out of his thoughts. He opens his eyes to see Kieren giving him a long-suffering look. The look turns to a pout when Rick shifts slightly to get a better view. Who can blame him? Ren's still naked, cross-legged on a chair across from the bed, his drawing board resting on his thighs obscuring part of the view. Rick can see charcoal, ground to powder, dusting Ren's legs, caught in the fine, pale hairs there. Rick had never thought he'd notice little things like that, but maybe that was Kieren rubbing off on him.  
Ren sighs and sets his drawing board aside. Rick only gets a glimpse of the drawing before Ren's stood up and crossed the two-step distance between the chair and the bed. The morning light catches in Kieren's hair – both head and body. His skin has a healthy pinkness to it, something Rick can't remember seeing in Roarton. He's also put on a few pounds, and that makes Rick want to dance. He's seen Ren in pretty awful shape and that's not something he ever wants to relive.  
Ren leans down with a soft smile. Rick's eyes flutter shut in the expectation of a kiss, but then there's an odd tug at his cheek. He opens his eyes to see Ren holding back a laugh. He's peeled one of the flower petals from Rick's face.  
“Those were such a bad idea.”  
Ren smirks. “They were sweet. The weird sticky bits were worth it.” Rick finally gets a kiss for his troubles. He pulls Ren down onto the bed with him. They kiss for a few moments, Kieren all but draped over Rick's larger form. And suddenly there is something damp yet papery sliding against his side and Kieren is giggling and it's clearly a declaration of slimy flower petal war. Before now, Rick never knew that this kind of simple happiness was a possibility.

**Author's Note:**

> Flower glossary:
> 
> Lilac - first emotions of love, innocence  
> Honeysuckle - bonds of love  
> Geranium (scarlet) - a couple of meanings, I'm going with "comfort"  
> Wild Tansy - Resistance  
> Bleeding heart - Undying love, emotions pouring out (not from languageofflowers)  
> Rhubarb - Advice  
> Clover - Be mine  
> Fritillary - Persecution  
> Almond (flowering) - Hope  
> Red rose - Love  
> Stephanotis - Marital bliss


End file.
